


What Comes Next

by InTheWild



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chapter 395 spoilers, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, M/M, Mild Internalized Homophobia, Volleyball, more details in author's note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28381617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheWild/pseuds/InTheWild
Summary: “Iwa-chan, have you ever touched a boob?”Keeping his eyes on his work, Hajime tossed one of his extra pencils at Oikawa’s head.“Ah! Iwa-chan!” Oikawa half-toppled out of his cross-legged position where he sat on Hajime’s bed. “What was that for!? You could have poked my eye out!”“I can’t deal with your weird, lame-ass attempts at bragging right now,” Hajime lifted his head just enough to shoot Oikawa a glare. “Just becauseyouhave decided to spend all of your newfound free time indulging your weird little cult instead of studying for our finals this week, doesn’t mean I have to hear about how you felt up Kamada-san last night.”Ever since they had lost their last chance at Nationals, he had been finding it harder and harder to cajole Oikawa into a more tolerable state. Neither of them had ever not had to go to volleyball practice every day, and while Hajime was glad Oikawa hadn’t taken up his old habit of overworking himself, it was still decidedly annoying to hear about Oikawa’s attempts at dating.-A fic about growing up, moving forward, and staying together.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 24
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started out with just the dumb idea for the opening scene and somehow spiraled into me projecting some of my own small experiences of realizing I was bi onto Iwaizumi. The internalized homophobia is very mild imo, it's much more like oblivious denial and misunderstanding than him hating himself. There's no slurs or hateful language at all, but still I thought I'd tag it just in case.
> 
> Even though the fic is set at the end of their third year, there's a lot of spoilers involving their future careers and where they end up. There aren't any huge main-story plot spoilers though, and even though you would probably get more out of the story if you've finished the manga, I tried to have it make sense even if you haven't and you don't mind learning where they go after high school.
> 
>  ****Edit 3/8/21:** If you've read this story before and notice some structural differences that's because I reformatted where some of the chapter breaks are - since I originally wrote this as a big one-shot I was going back and forth a lot about where I wanted to break for chapters, so I've changed that around a bit now! Everything story and content-wise is exactly the same though! I just like the new flow of it this way better. Thanks as always for reading!!

“Iwa-chan, have you ever touched a boob?”

Keeping his eyes on his work, Hajime tossed one of his extra pencils at Oikawa’s head.

“Ah! Iwa-chan!” Oikawa half-toppled out of his cross-legged position where he sat on Hajime’s bed. “What was that for!? You could have poked my eye out!”

“I can’t deal with your weird, lame-ass attempts at bragging right now,” Hajime lifted his head just enough to shoot Oikawa a glare. “Just because _you_ have decided to spend all of your newfound free time indulging your weird little cult instead of studying for our finals this week, doesn’t mean I have to hear about how you felt up Kamada-san last night.”

Oikawa’s jaw fell open in offense. “I go on _one_ date with a girl who _happened_ to be waiting for me after practice a few times and you refer to her entire group of friends as a _cult_?” He paused like he had made some sort of brilliant come-back. “And you think I’m the mean one.”

Hajime sighed. Ever since they had lost their last chance at Nationals, he had been finding it harder and harder to cajole Oikawa into a more tolerable state. Neither of them had ever not had to go to volleyball practice every day, and while Hajime was glad Oikawa hadn’t taken up his old habit of overworking himself, it was still decidedly annoying to hear about Oikawa’s attempts at dating.

“How many times do I have to tell you that jealousy is unbecoming, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa continued on as if Hajime hadn’t just completely ignored him. “Did you ever think that maybe I was asking because Kama-chan had a friend who was interested in you, hmm?” His voice curled up into that annoying lilting thing that Oikawa thought was endearing.

“What goes on in your head that makes you think asking me about _boobs_ ” – Hajime looked at Oikawa flatly – “is any way a good segue to tell me that a girl might be interested in me?”

“Well,” Oikawa’s eyes glinted with a shine that gave Hajime a pit in his stomach and made him immediately regret continuing the conversation. “While Kama-chan and I were getting hot and heavy, she may have mentioned that she had a friend who would be interested in someone who was experienced like I am, and I can’t very well recommend you to her if I don’t know whether or not you’ve ever touc – “

Hajime threw another pencil at him and Oikawa dodged gracefully this time. “Ugh, I _knew_ this was just you trying to brag some more.”

Oikawa’s chuckle was light and smug as he finally turned back to whatever he was supposed to be studying. “You know, Iwa-chan sometimes I wonder if you really even are a teenage boy at all, the way you act like a grumpy man all the time.”

Rolling his eyes and keeping his focus on his desk, Hajime didn’t take the bait this time. The subject of girls was one that Hajime had given up on with Oikawa a long time ago. It was around the same time that Oikawa had started realizing that he was good-looking and that he was attracting attention for it, that Hajime himself had started noticing girls too. But every time he brought up a cute girl to Oikawa, he always got all weird and squirrelly about it, and just deflected somehow about Hajime being too rough to ever be with a pretty girl.

Oikawa always liked the attention the girls gave him, but never seemed to want to give any of it back to them. Sure, he’d be nice to them and play into their flirtations, but even in private, when all the other guys on the team were drooling over some girl from another school, Oikawa always managed to never say anything specific about said girl, and instead turned it into being about himself again.

So, Hajime stopped asking Oikawa about the dates he went on, and he didn’t bother mentioning girls he thought were cute either. Besides, after spending so many years watching people drool over Oikawa, Hajime didn’t exactly like the idea of participating in similar behavior by talking about dating like it was some sort of conquest. Oikawa had always seemed fine with this unspoken arrangement too, given that the only time he ever brought up his dates were when he wanted to tease Hajime about something in order to make himself look better. Or, what Oikawa thought was better anyway.

So, when Oikawa actually continued on with his line of questioning, Hajime couldn’t help but be surprised.

“Iwa-chan, do you even _want_ to touch a boob?”

Hajime just gaped at the sincere expression on his friend’s face. It wasn’t his smug, teasing smile, but rather his plain, almost exasperated “ _Iwa-chan why are you being so difficult”_ face – which made no sense to Hajime. “I – uh, what?” Hajime blinked, baffled. “Yes? What kind of a question is that, dumbass?”

“Well, I don’t know,” he threw his hands up in the air like Hajime was the one being ridiculous in this situation. “I practically offer you up a free boob on a platter, and you just ignore me!”

Trapped somewhere between a scowl and bursting into laughter, Hajime just shook his head wide-eyed. “Can you even _hear_ yourself right now? Why do you even want to talk about this all of a sudden – what are you trying to get me to say? ‘Congrats on making it to first base’ or some shit?” His voice came out angrier than he realized he was feeling, his confusion giving way to annoyance.

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed down to a glare as he scoffed. “Ugh, that is _so_ not the point, Iwa-chan.” And he flopped backwards onto the bed in a dramatic huff.

“Well, let me know when you figure out how to articulate the point,” Hajime mumbled to himself.

A few moments later he heard Oikawa sigh, and sit back up to focus on his homework. The silence started out staticky and hard, but as Hajime eventually lost himself in his science work, he found his frustration waning. Arguing with Oikawa over bullshit trivialities was nothing new, and soon enough he wasn’t thinking about anything other than memorizing the periodic table.

“Mother _fuck_!”

The sudden – and unusually vulgar – exclamation made Hajime jump in his seat as he whipped around just in time to see Oikawa drop his phone onto his textbook in irritation. “What the hell?”

“ _Tobio-chan_ ,” Oikawa pushed through gritted teeth, “got invited to Youth Camp.”

 _Oh. Shit._ Hajime began running the best possible scenarios for damage control.

“The. All. Japan. Youth. Camp.” His eyes were hard as he simmered in his rage. “ _All-Japan,_ Iwa-chan!”

“How’d you find out?” Hajime hedged with a sigh.

Flipping over onto his stomach dramatically, Oikawa whined as he smashed his face into the covers of Hajime’s bed. “Makki just picked up the new Volleyball Monthly and sent me the full list.” His voice came out muffled from the pressure he was putting through the bedspread, but his vehemence was as clear as ever.

 _I’m gonna smack Hanamaki upside the head tomorrow._ Hajime ran his hands down his face and paused to see if he could wait out Oikawa’s anger before giving his usual pep talk.

Oikawa turned his neck so that his cheek was resting on the bed instead, the fierceness still not leaving his eyes. “This is exactly why I’m going to Argentina next year. I can’t _believe_ I’m not appreciated in my own country!”

Argentina. Argen-fucking-tina. Oikawa had told him about his plans almost two months ago now, and even though the rest of the team had thought he was crazy, Hajime knew as soon as the words “ _I met with Jose Blanco_ ” had left Oikawa’s lips, that there had never really been another option in Oikawa’s eyes. The man who inspired Oikawa to become a setter in the first place might have gone halfway around the world, but if there’s anything Oikawa would put it all on the line for, it was volleyball.

Oikawa had expected Hajime to be surprised though, as if Hajime wasn’t already fully aware of Oikawa’s defiant intensity for the sport. And while there had been an uncomfortable weight lodged in the space between Hajime’s ribcage since then, there was a relief too. A relief that Hajime could send in his application to California without feeling like he was leaving something behind.

And even though they were both confident in their decisions, now that their time as high school volleyball players had ended, it was like these two foreign countries were looming in front of them. Nothing left between them and their futures except the remainder of the schoolyear that expanded out in front of them in a field of time that was somehow happening too slow, and yet far too fast. Too much time to think, but not enough time to _do._ The reality that they were moving on wisped around them like a fleeting but recurring gust of wind, neither of them willing to acknowledge the way it prickled their skin.

“Just you wait, Iwa-cha, I’m gonna come back and kick all of Japan’s ass.” Oikawa continued on his tirade firmly; his competitive disdain for his former kouhai apparently outweighing any weirdness that came from talking about the future.

“Does that include me?” Hajime raised a brow to ask lightheartedly, still hoping to tamper down Oikawa’s mood.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes, apparently deciding to allow his anger to fade, in order to tease Hajime instead. “That depends,” he paused and Hajime worried for a moment that his attempt hadn’t worked. “On whether or not you and Utsui-chan have consummated your relationship yet and become fully Americanized by then.”

Despite himself, Hajime snorted. He _hated_ that Oikawa referred to Hajime’s copy of _I Had a Lot of Volleyball Injuries. I Don’t Want You to Have Them Too_ by Utsui Takashi, as “ _Utsui-chan._ ” But he couldn’t help but laugh at the image Oikawa had created anyway. “It’s a book, Oikawa. You really don’t need to give it one of your juvenile nicknames.”

“I don’t know, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa shrugged facetiously, “you’re moving across the world, all because of this little book _and_ you sleep with it every night. It’s practically your girlfriend at this point, and all good girlfriends should have names, don’t you think?”

“I do _not_ sleep with it every night,” Hajime scowled.

“What a liar, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa teased delightedly. “We both know for a fact that I have photographic evidence that says otherwise!” He reached for his phone and started tapping through to find said picture.

Hajime grumbled. He really didn’t need to see the picture of him half drooling with the book in question laid open against his stomach. “I was _reading_ it, and I _fell_ asleep!”

“Right. You were sleeping with it,” he glinted. “Is that not what I just said?”

“I hate you,” Hajime exhaled through his nose.

Oikawa just smirked back, clearly thinking he had won the interaction. Hajime just stared back, refusing to back down completely, until Oikawa’s smug air dissipated and was replaced with determination instead. “We’re going to the gym” he stood up with finality.

Hajime’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t. I really do have to study for these finals.”

Already halfway to the door, Oikawa faltered. Before, Hajime would never turn down volleyball practice of any sort, but now that he wasn’t on a team and, unlike Oikawa, he wasn’t planning on going pro, he had to focus on other things. “Come on Iwa-chan. That fancy ‘ _ucky_ ’ school in California already sent you that early acceptance letter. You can come spike for me for a bit.” His voice was smaller than Hajime liked to hear it, and he hated the way that it almost sounded like a plea.

“It’s _UC_ , Oikawa, how many times do I have to tell you,” he grumbled halfheartedly. “But I really can’t. Their sports science program is really competitive and if my grades slip before graduation, they can rescind the acceptance.”

The air was slowly gathering weight again. The realities that their futures required work, and the fact that Hajime’s work no longer included actually practicing volleyball, was pressing on their shoulders more and more lately.

“I am sorry though,” Hajime let his sincerity line his voice. “You know if it was anything else, I’d drop it and go with you.”

“I know, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said with a hard sigh, logic and acceptance begrudgingly forcing their way into his understanding. Meeting Hajime’s eyes, there was an odd intensity in Oikawa’s that Hajime couldn’t quit place as Oikawa opened his mouth to say something else, before he clamped it shut. Instead, he clapped his hands together, the look was gone and was replaced with his usual saccharine smile. “Well, then I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, don’t go too hard with practice, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oikawa waved a hand flippantly. “And _you_ let me know if you decide to trade in your dusty Utsui-chan for one of Kama-chan’s friends, okay?”

“Get out,” Hajime threw his last pencil, hitting the door as it closed behind Oikawa while his irritating giggle slowly faded from earshot.

Turning back to his work, Hajime willed himself to focus. While it felt unnatural not to be following Oikawa out the door and into the familiar strain of their late-night, extra practices, he knew that this was the way things were going to have to be now. They both had to get used to it, no matter how weird it felt.

Twenty minutes later Hajime’s buzzed where it sat at the corner of his desk.

 **Oikawa Tooru:** _Ugh, Mad Dog-chan is here._

Hajime smirked, remembering that Kyoutani was known to frequent the community gym when there wasn’t practice. Or when he was skipping practice.

 **Oikawa Tooru:** _Who brings fried chicken to the gym?? Ew._

 **Iwaizumi Hajime:** _It’s a good thing he’s there, idiot. You can have him spike for you – practice more than just your serve._

 **Oikawa Tooru:** _Iwa-channn!_ _He’s gonna get the ball all greasy!_

Snorting, Hajime rolled his eyes and put his phone back down on his desk, knowing Oikawa would practice with Kyoutani whether Hajime kept pestering him or not. He actually found it a bit of a relief to know that Oikawa wouldn’t just be practicing serves infinitely with no one there to keep him in check.

Studying came a lot easier after that. The subjects matched up well with his interests, and not for the first time he found a lot of the information in his math and science classes – and occasionally even his literature class – lined up with the things that made Utsui-san’s book so interesting to him. Injuries on the court could be prevented if you just understood the science, and had the knowledge to know how to practice correctly. And even if Hajime had resigned himself to never being tall enough to really play competitively again, he felt a certain kind of comfort knowing that he could learn to help others play to the best of their abilities instead.

It was when he switched over to studying for his English class that he began to get a bit antsy. English, while just as important to his future considering where he had decided to go to college, _felt_ a lot less relevant to his field and tended to lose his interest quicker.

And. Oikawa had been at the gym for two hours now.

Hajime had told himself after they lost to Karasuno and they had played their last official game together, that he would stop nagging Oikawa about extra practices. In a few months they would be worlds apart, and Oikawa would just have to get used to learning how to stop on his own.

Hajime didn’t expect there to be a learning curve for himself too.

But tonight, wasn’t just any night of extra practice. It was a “ _first I need to crush Tobio-chan, and then all of Japan!”_ kind of extra practice. Which meant that Hajime intervening wasn’t necessarily, entirely unwarranted.

 **Iwaizumi Hajime:** _You better not still be at the gym._

Five minutes passed after he sent the message. And since Oikawa usually responded to Hajime’s so-called “mothering” by sending an obnoxious number of selfies proving he was “being good,” it meant he was probably still practicing.

Hajime debated for _another_ five minutes before he sighed and called Kyoutani instead.

“ _Iwaizumi-san?”_ He sounded out of breath.

“Is Oikawa still at the gym?”

 _“Is that Iwa-chan?”_ Oikawa’s voice cut through, sounding far away. _“Tell him California can suck it and we’re having an amazing time without him!”_

“Make him go home,” Hajime said to Kyoutani firmly, ignoring Oikawa. “And tell him to text me when he gets there so I don’t have to call his mom.”

 _“Sure, got it,”_ Kyoutani complied easily while Oikawa whined something about Hajime “having too much power over Mad Dog-chan,” before the call ended.

Hajime pressed the pads of his fingers into his eyelids. It really _did_ feel like he was Oikawa’s mom sometimes.

He packed up all his schoolwork, including the stray pencils on the bed and floor, and got ready to sleep. Around twenty minutes later he received a selfie of an exhausted looking Oikawa who was scowling at the camera in a way that disturbingly, still managed to look photogenic. Hajime figured it probably still took him at least three tries to get the expression just right though.

 **Oikawa Tooru:** _See, home safe and sound! The future Dr. and Mrs. Utsui-chan can sleep well knowing their patient is going to bed early._

Hajime rolled his eyes. Oikawa was really hammering in hard with the “ _Utsui-chan_ ” bullshit tonight.

Turning on his side, Hajime pointed his camera to snap a picture of where the book sat on his nightstand, the copious number of sticky notes that jutted out from the pages barely catching the low light from the streetlamps outside.

 **Iwaizumi Hajime:** _Utsui-chan says she hates you too._

 **Oikawa Tooru:** _Aww, see! You two are a match made in heaven!_  
**Oikawa Tooru:** _Gnight, Iwa-chan~_

* * *

“ – and he had this like special towel _specifically_ for wiping all the chicken grease off his hands when we took water breaks,” Oikawa continued regaling what he thought was an exciting tale of late-night volleyball practice with Kyoutani. “And _then_ after we left, he went to go get _more_ chicken. Our little Yahaba is really going to have his hands full next year.”

“Well, at least he was making sure to keep the ball clean,” Hajime responded around the mouthful of rice he had just put in his mouth.

“Yeah,” Hanamaki said as he joined the two of them at Hajime’s desk. “So, the dude likes to snack. As long as it’s not affecting his playing, I don’t see a problem.”

“Ugh. If you two can’t see why eating fried food in the same place where you work out is objectively disgusting, then you’re both a lost cause.” Oikawa sniffed haughtily.

Hajime was about to concede to the point that Kyoutani’s habits might not exactly be _healthy,_ when they were interrupted by a very nervous sounding voice. “U-um, excuse me?”

The girl had dark, shoulder length hair and her hands were clasped tightly together while her eyes darted rapidly between each of them at the small table. Already knowing what was about to happen, Hajime shared a look with Hanamaki before beginning to shift away from the situation and ignoring the plastic smile Oikawa was about to flip on.

“Um, Iwaizumi-kun?”

They all stilled, Oikawa’s smile momentarily going lopsided. “Yes?” Hajime kept the surprise out of his voice as he faced her.

“Can I speak with you for a moment?”

He nodded before quickly acknowledging Oikawa and Hanamaki – who gave him a wink – and Hajime stood to follow her out the classroom door.

Once they were in the hallway, she seemed much more at ease. “Thanks for agreeing to talk with me,” her tone was polite, but something about her expression made Hajime wonder if she was annoyed by the formalities of confessing.

“Of course,” he responded as casually as he could. Truthfully, he had only ever been confessed to once or twice, and he’d always declined because of volleyball practice, but now…

“I sit a few seats behind you in class, and I saw your last few volleyball matches too. I really admire your” – her eyes quickly flitted down to Hajime waist and then back up – “work ethic.”

He definitely recognized her from class even though they had never spoken, and now that he was getting a better look at her, he was pretty sure she was an athlete too. Her legs looked like she had spent a fair bit of time working on their muscle tone, with her quads perfectly aligned over her knees to make a perfectly lean line down to her calves – all of which made her stand with a strong confidence. _Probably soccer_ , Hajime deduced. “Ah, er thanks.”

She nodded. “I was hoping we could get together this week and maybe we could study together for the rest of our finals?”

Oh. _Maybe she isn’t confessing then,_ Hajime thought with some confusion, unsure if he was relieved or not. “Yeah sure. How about after school tomorrow?”

“Great!” Her eyes lit up. “Here! I’ll put my number in your phone and I’ll text you the details?”

Hajime nodded and they swapped phones. When he got his back, he looked down at the contact name, _Nakano Hiyori_. He was glad he didn’t have to admit to not knowing it previously.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Iwaizumi-kun!” Cheerfully, she leaned over to lightly peck his cheek before she left down the hall to one of the other classrooms.

 _Okay, maybe she_ was _confessing?_ Hajime’s face simmered where her lips had touched.

Matsukawa had joined Hanakami and Oikawa by the time Hajime made it back over to his desk, all of them howling and making ridiculous kissy faces.

“Nice one! I think I’ve seen her at our games before,” Matsukawa said as way of hello.

Hajime shook his head. “That was weird. She just asked for study help.”

“Aww, Iwa-chan can’t even get confessed to properly!” Oikawa trilled. “The life of the average man must be so exhausting!”

“Wait, but then she kissed you?” Hanamaki asked while Hajime pinched Oikawa’s shoulder, ignoring his squeak of pain.

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure she checked me out in the middle of it too,” Hajime continued, feeling the skin of his neck prickle in embarrassment at the thought.

“Okay, I take it back, this isn’t your fault. She’s supposed to either hand you a letter or a gift, and then tell you she’s in love with you,” Oikawa said with an annoying air of expertise. “She’s clearly just terrible at confessing. Don’t date her Iwa-chan, she’s too stupid for you.”

“Ohh, wait!” Matsukawa put his hand on Hajime’s shoulder. “Maybe she doesn’t want to date you! I bet she just wants to hook-up!”

Oikawa gasped, scandalized.

“What the hell is that reaction for?” Hajime scrunched his nose, “you were just telling me last night about one of your hook-ups!”

“That was a _date_ Iwa-chan! There’s a difference!”

Hajime scoffed. “Considering all you did was go to her house and pretend to watch a movie while you felt her up, I’d say that hardly counts as a date.”

“ _Iwa-chan!”_ Oikawa flushed as his eyes darted between Hanamaki and Matsukawa worriedly.

He looked genuinely upset for a moment, like Hajime had told one of his secrets or something. “Whatever, she could actually just want study help. I’m not just gonna jump to conclusions one way or another.”

Probably sensing an argument coming, Hanamaki cut Oikawa off before he could retort. “Either way, congrats dude! Let us know how it goes, yeah?”

He winked again and Hajime gave him a shove before Oikawa – now back to his normal shit-eating attitude – started educating them all on the _proper_ way to tell someone your feelings.

While Oikawa droned on about dating etiquette, Hajime found it hard to continue eating his lunch as his stomach squirmed mildly.

Hajime wasn’t much of a romantic. And because he had always turned down any previous confessions, he had never given them much thought. In theory, he did like the idea of having the opportunity to take a girl out on a date – and Nakano’s apparent confidence, and the fact that she played sports too, were in line with what Hajime had vaguely associated with a compatible girlfriend. Except, being Hajime’s girlfriend didn’t exactly seem like Nakano’s intention.

There was something flattering about the idea that she thought he was attractive enough to be so forward, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered whether or not Oikawa was right, and that he _should_ feel scandalized.

* * *

Hajime didn’t usually dream at night, and when he did, he’d usually wake up in the morning with only a vague recollection of shapes, sounds and maybe an overall feeling. His dream the night before his “date” with Nakano didn’t veer from that pattern, except that the feeling during the dream was overwhelmingly different than how he felt once he woke up and realized what had been going on in it.

He was in a bed, and there was someone else lying next to him. They weren’t touching but Hajime could tell they were warm and comfortable; their voice didn’t make any sound but the intention of their words put Hajime at ease. Which was good, because even though there was no evidence of it, he knew they were both naked.

Everything felt soft and smooth, then the faceless person was hovering over Hajime. He could feel their smile and the way it made his heart expand. The mood shifted from a light blanket of warmth, to a hotter, more fiery heat, and then Hajime was only seeing with his hands. His right hand parsed through shoulder length hair, while his left cupped a strong jaw and his thumb caressed a high cheekbone. Sometimes their shoulders were slender, then when he’d go back to them later, they would be broad and firm. But the weight that sat on top of him was always heavy and full of care.

From their shoulders, Hajime’s hands skimmed over their neck where their long hair didn’t seem to be anymore, until his palm was pressed flush against their flat, muscular chest and –

_Iwa-chan, have you ever touched a boob?_

Hajime twitched awake violently. The words had still been voiceless, they were innocent – innocuous even – when they had passed through Hajime’s dream state. Everything his subconscious had shown him had made him feel good and safe and like he wanted more.

Except, now he was awake and all he could think about was what the words were asking him, and how what his hands had been feeling were definitely not…

 _Fucking Oikawa_ , Hajime groaned as he rolled out of bed to get ready for school. Leave it to his best friend’s obnoxious, gloating, bullshit to somehow lodge itself into Hajime’s brain.

Luckily as he went to shower and brush his teeth, the fog of sleep slowly faded and wiped away most of the details of the dream, leaving Hajime only mildly disgruntled by the time he met up with Oikawa to walk together.

* * *

Double checking that the address on the house in front of him was the same one that Nakano had texted him earlier in the day, Hajime noticed that he had gotten a message from Oikawa.

 **Oikawa Tooru:** _Iwa-chan! I finally found a good stream of San Juan’s latest game, so you’re sleeping over tonight to analyze it with me!_

Normally Hajime would be annoyed at Oikawa’s assumption that he would just come over without properly asking, but getting to do anything volleyball related sounded great. Besides, if Hajime didn’t watch with him, Oikawa would never go to sleep and then he’d have to deal with Oikawa complaining about under eye bags or some shit the whole next day.

 **Iwaizumi Hajime:** _Cool. Let my mom know if you happen to see her._

 **Oikawa Tooru:** _Ohh yeah, you’ve got your “date” right now, huh? Don’t stay out too late, or your poor Utsui-chan will get jealous ;)_

 **Iwaizumi Hajime:** _Shut up._

It’s not like the _book_ that Oikawa had childishly assigned a personality to was going to notice him coming late. And he was staying at Oikawa’s house _anyway_ so she – _it_ – wouldn’t know the difference anyway. _Idiot._

He closed his phone and tried to ignore the fact that he still had no idea whether what he was about to walk into was _actually_ a date or not, before he rang the doorbell. In the back of his mind, he wondered which one he would even it rather be.

Nakano answered the door with an easy smile, ushering Hajime in quickly.

“No one’s home, so don’t bother with a greeting,” she said casually as Hajime toed his shoes off in the genkan.

“Oh,” Hajime swallowed. “Okay.”

He followed her down the hall to her bedroom, which was sparsely decorated with a few posters of some pop idols and another with a professional soccer player that Hajime thought he recognized. In the center of the room was a low table that was covered in text books, one of which looked to be open, like she had been studying just before he had arrived.

The sight of the books loosened some of the tension Hajime hadn’t known he was holding in his chest. _So, what if no one is home? Maybe she_ does _just want to study,_ he rationalized as he knelt down at the table and started pulling his own books out of his bag.

Nakano sat down next to him, even though there was plenty of space on the other side of the table. But she mostly kept her eyes on her work while chatting idly about class.

He was out of his element. The whole “date or not date” thing was starting to really grate on his nerves. Even though Hajime considered himself to be pretty easygoing, that didn’t mean he didn’t want to know her intentions. Theoretically, he could just ask. But if it _was_ a date, then he didn’t want to act poorly by asking her exactly why she had invited him there.

“I heard you’re going to America for school, Iwaizumi-kun?” Hajime felt her eyes on him and he realized he had been reading the same paragraph over and over.

“Yeah, I’m going to study sports science in California,” he nodded.

“That’s so cool!” Her eyes lit up and she turned to face him a bit more. “You’re so dedicated to leave everything behind like that!”

Hajime couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes flicked down to his arms again. “Ah, well I was really inspired by this book I read a few years ago,” he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and tried to ignore the way her intense gaze was making his skin flush. Her eyes were a pretty brown color that was so dark it was almost black. “Injuries are the worst thing that can happen in sports, the only really _bad_ thing actually, and I always wanted to – “

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” She clamped her mouth shut immediately after she spoke, suddenly realizing that she had interrupted Hajime. But her body was still slightly inclined toward him, and not even a second later she continued anyway. “Sorry, I know this is a bit forward. But I’ve never had a boyfriend and well, I figured since we’re both third years, and you’re going to an entirely different country in a few months I thought you might be interested in um…”

“Ohh,” Hajime sighed, glad to finally have confirmation on what was going on.

Nakano seemed to take his reaction as agreement and Hajime had only barely processed the way she seemed to be floating back and forth between nervousness and confidence before she leaned forward entirely to plant her mouth fully onto his.

“Nrmph,” Hajime grunted as his back hit the soft carpet of her bedroom floor. She pulled back momentarily to check his expression, before she captured his lips again, a bit more carefully this time.

Hajime had only been kissed once before. In middle school, a girl from another class had kissed him and then ran away during their lunch break. All he really remembered was how fast it happened and that it had made his stomach do flips for the rest of the day when he thought about it. And how Oikawa kept making fun of him because apparently her running away was a sign that she was embarrassed of Hajime. Even though Hajime knew that wasn’t true, and she that had probably just been nervous, it had still pissed Hajime off and he had rightfully punched Oikawa in the shoulder.

Now, alone in Nakano’s house, on the floor of her bedroom, with her hovering over him, Hajime’s stomach was flipping in an entirely different way. Despite her previous words and actions, Nakano was actually very careful in her movements, as if she was afraid of scaring him off. Which, Hajime was glad for. He felt like he had just been thrown in the deep end of the pool with very minimal swimming lessons.

He certainly wasn’t complaining though. Where the pads of her fingers were unfamiliarly soft against his jaw, her legs were comfortably strong where they rested on the sides of his own thighs. Her hair kept slipping over her shoulder to tickle his cheek, and while she seemed frustrated by it, Hajime honestly didn’t mind at all.

However, he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do with his hands. Everything felt like it would be too intimate, especially considering their positioning. He couldn’t help but think she had it easier – she could put her hands anywhere from his torso up and he wouldn’t give it a second thought. But even as Hajime considered delicately tracing the minimal curve of her waist, he felt like that would be taking it too far.

Unsurprisingly, Nakano seemed to notice that while Hajime was responding with his lips, his arms were laying at his sides like a pair of dead fish. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice half caught inside Hajime’s own mouth, and half ghosting over his cheeks. “You can put your hands on me.”

_“Iwai-chan, have you ever touched a boob?”_

Hajime wanted to scream. He’d be lying to himself if he said he’d never thought about a situation like this before. Everything was going exactly like a typical fantasy that any normal high school guy would want, but no. Hajime had to be friends with fucking Oikawa. Oikawa and his bullshit, obnoxious, beat-around-the-bush bragging. Oikawa and his fucking _question_ that Hajime had apparently internalized enough to let it seep into his dreams at night.

It was like he was watching himself and Nakano from the corner of the room. He saw her nod her forehead against his again, before she lifted his hand to place it on her chest. Vaguely he registered the weight of it in his hand, and that it should be exciting. He was sure it normally _would_ be exciting, except as he watched her move his other hand to her waist, he wasn’t really seeing the two of them anymore. He was seeing the images from his dream the night before. The faceless person with the subtly changing body, who sometimes felt a lot like Nakano did, and other times didn’t feel like her at all.

As best he could with his head pressed against the rough carpeting, he pulled away from her. “Nakano-san, I…”

She rose up off him a few inches, her weight resting on her palms beside Hajime’s head.

He stared up at her, trying to think of what words he could possibly use to explain to her the clusterfuck that was happening in his head. Even if he _could_ find the words, he wasn’t sure he’d even want to say them to her. Instead, he found himself focusing on trying to find the line in her eyes where her pupils slowly faded into dark mahogany. _She really does have pretty eyes,_ he thought dejectedly.

Seeing that Hajime apparently wasn’t going to say anything else, she pushed herself all the way back up onto her knees with a sigh. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry.” He meant it, but he wasn’t sure his voice was really conveying it. It still felt like ten different feelings that had previously been held in separate glass jars, had just been dropped onto the floor of his mind and mixed together in a sharp, sticky mess.

She shook her head with a soft smile that held just a hint of something else. Hajime was grateful for her apparent understanding, but it also pinched something underneath his skin, like she was somehow understanding more about what just happened than he did. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Hajime cleared his throat and nodded as they stood up together. At least she didn’t expect him to stick around and pretend like he still had a reason to be there. She had invited him over to make out, and apparently, Hajime didn’t want to.

They exchanged polite goodbyes as Hajime slipped his shoes back on after gathering up the rest of his things, and just as the door closed behind him, he heard Nakano mumble something to herself.

He was halfway over to Oikawa’s house when he finally pieced her words together.

 _“Maybe Kamada was right…”_


	2. Chapter 2

The winter sun had already set when Hajime opened the door to Oikawa’s bedroom, the orange light coming from the on-screen court displayed on Oikawa’s desktop computer making the room look like something out of a horror movie. The fact that Oikawa was bundled underneath a blanket, his knees pulled up to his chest and a volleyball tucked between his ankles while he watched with rapt attention, didn’t help

“Oi, shithead! You started watching without me?”

Hajime didn’t really expect him to respond. When Oikawa was watching volleyball, there was little else that could take his focus.

Stepping over where the extra futon had already been set up for him, Hajime noticed the latest copy of Volleyball Monthly was laying open next to the blanket pile that was Oikawa.

With a sigh, Hajime pulled the fabric off Oikawa’s shoulders, and sat down next to him all in one motion.

“Ah, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa squealed like he actually _was_ in a horror movie. “You’re far too brutish to be sneaking up on people! I could have pepper sprayed you!”

Scrunching his nose, Hajime otherwise ignored the statement while he readjusted the blanket to drape it over both their shoulders in hopes of combatting the eventual chill from the lack of central heating in the Oikawa house. “This isn’t the San Juan match.”

“No, it’s not,” Oikawa huffed and turned back to the screen. “I _was_ actually waiting to watch with you. Wait, why are you here so early? Date go badly, hmm?” He teased.

Hajime paused. “S’fine.”

In Hajime’s peripherals he could feel Oikawa analyzing him, his mouth opening and closing shut again without saying anything. It was unusual for Oikawa not to pry but Hajime wasn’t going to question it, and instead kept his attention on the match in front of them.

One team was wearing disgustingly bright yellow and green jerseys, while the other had one had a simple, plain black uniform. He didn’t recognize either of them.

“These aren’t Miyagi teams,” he said. “So, who are we watching?”

Oikawa lingered on Hajime a moment, before he slipped immediately back into volleyball mode. “Inarizaki vs. Itachiyama. It’s the final match of this years’ Interhigh. Inarizaki’s – the black team’s – setter is at Youth Camp with Tobio-chan.”

“Mmm, that Miya guy, right?” Hajime had read one of his interviews before. The guy seemed intense and kind of stuck up. _Typical setter disposition,_ he thought idly. “Trying to figure out if you’re better than him?”

“In a way,” Oikawa said with a cold smirk. “I wanna see if he’s gonna kick Tobio-chan’s ass this week at camp.”

Hajime let out a single cackle. “And how’s it looking?”

Oikawa smirk somehow got fiercer. “Tobio-chan won’t know what hit him.”

“You really are an asshole,” Hajime shook his head softly.

“Come on, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa scoffed. “These guys are _insane_! Miya sets balls that I thought weren’t even _possible_ to set until I saw him do it – and he does it without hesitating! Like, look at that!” Oikawa pointed wildly to the screen where Miya was practically bent over backwards to do a proper overhand set of a botched pass. “I mean, is he a setter or a gymnast!?”

Oikawa mumbled something about needing to work on his core, and Hajime added “ _ab roller”_ to his mental list of going away presents for him. “So, then you aren’t still upset that they never invited you to the camp?”

“I was never _upset_ , Iwa-chan,” he glared. “I was justifiably _pissed_.”

Hajime rolled his eyes and decided not to point out that the two words were essentially synonyms. “I think you’re right though. I’m pretty sure they only invite nut-cases to those camps.”

Oikawa turned so Hajime could feel the force of his glare. “Are you saying I’m not insane enough?”

“Well,” Hajime hid a smirk behind his deadpan voice, “you’re definitely insanely annoying.”

Oikawa’s jaw dropped and jutted forward in offense.

“I’m just saying,” Hajime let his voice soften. “Guys like Kageyama and Miya whats-his-name are practically inhuman – they’re flashy and their athleticism gets them a lot of attention.”

“What happened to me being the best setter you’ve ever known?” Oikawa practically pouted.

“Would you let me finish?” Hajime huffed. “You _are_ , idiot. Yeah, maybe you don’t think like a ‘genius’ or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, but you can still learn from them, and we both know how stupidly hard you work. And besides, your shitty personality is actually an advantage on the court.”

Oikawa’s face softened ever so slightly as Hajime continued on.

“All that bullshit charm, and those creepy observation skills you have, make you a master manipulator. It’s like your personality was bred in a setter factory or some shit. No one is better at reading the court, or matching up with hitters than you are.”

Oikawa’s just looked at Hajime for a moment. His eyes were fond and gross. “You know, sometimes I’m kinda glad you aren’t gonna play competitive volleyball anymore Iwa-chan.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Oikawa’s tone had been light, but the words made the weight between Hajime’s ribs shift uncomfortably.

“If you never play again, then no one else will ever set for you again and you won’t ever be able to prove any of that wrong,” Oikawa shrugged almost coyly.

“Shut up, dickhead,” Hajime flicked him on the ear. “No one could prove me wrong anyway,” he mumbled as they both turned back to watch the match.

The game was intense, and seriously impressive. He and Oikawa paused every now and then to go back and replay certain set-ups and added them to their infinite list of things they wanted to try.

The blanket around their shoulders smelled like home, and while the bright light of the computer display washed everything else in his vision in darkness, it lit up the floor in front of them where their long legs were now splayed out comfortably. The future was there, present in some way in all of their conversations, but right now, tonight felt like any other.

Itachiyama took the title, and without needing to be prompted, Oikawa swapped the video feed over to the most recent San Juan match.

“So, how _was_ your date Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked far too casually.

“I said it was fine,” Hajime groaned inwardly, hoping Oikawa didn’t feel him tense up. He needed a relatively safe piece of information to offer up so that he didn’t have to give any specific details. “Did you know she knows Kamada-san?”

Oikawa snapped his neck toward Hajime, his brows twitching infinitesimally. “Oh? What did she say?” His voice croaked unnaturally.

 _Okay, maybe that_ wasn’t _a safe bit of information_ , Hajime thought confusedly. “Uh, nothing really. Nakano-san just kind of mentioned her name right as I left.”

“Huh,” Oikawa hummed, his voice somewhat distant. “I wonder if Nakano-chan was the friend Kama-chan wanted me to set you up with, and she just took matters into her own hands.”

“Maybe…” Hajime’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t considered that at all.

It _had_ been weird the way Nakano had mentioned Kamada’s name right at the end. He had just thought that maybe Nakano remembered something involving her. But…

“Wait,” Hajime turned to face Oikawa. “All that shit you said the other night about hooking up with Kamada-san and that her friend looking for someone… ‘experienced”’ – Hajime cringed – “that stuff was actually true?”

“Of course, it was, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “I don’t lie to you.”

“You do when you’re trying to shit on me,” Hajime said pointedly.

“Ugh, and I _also_ told you that you had completely missed the point of what I was trying to say.”

Hajime stared at him, waiting. “And? Are you going to tell me what the point was now?”

Oikawa returned the stare and his mouth did that opening and closing thing _again_ , and it was really starting to piss Hajime of. Yeah, Oikawa might not actually lie to Hajime, but he could sure be a stubborn pain in the ass when he didn’t want to share something.

“Whatever,” Hajime huffed. Any excuse not to explain whatever the heck had happened with Nakano was a good thing, so it was probably for the best that he didn’t try to pry out whatever it was Oikawa seemed to be hiding.

Oikawa’s reaction to Kamada knowing Nakano was strange though. He seemed almost uncomfortable. And it was nearly impossible to make Oikawa uncomfortable. The smug asshole prided himself in thriving in all situations.

Nakano’s mumbled words took on a new connotation now, too. “ _Maybe Kamada was right,”_ she had said. Right about Oikawa? Right about Hajime? Or… right about them both? Something uncomfortable prickled beneath Hajime’s skin.

But that didn’t make any sense. Whatever short circuit happened in Hajime’s brain at Nakano’s house wasn’t anything like Oikawa’s date with Kamada.

No, she must have meant something else. _She probably just remembered something about the English final tomorrow or something_ , Hajime decided as he refocused his eyes back on the match.

It was already nearing the end of the first set, and San Juan was in the lead. Judging by the way Oikawa was leaning toward the screen like a dog anxiously awaiting his treat, his fingers twitching against his kneecaps with each pass of the ball, Hajime knew he was long past thinking about things like high school drama. The only things shining in his eyes now were rotation configurations, block timings, and the way the ball felt against his hand just before he smashed it into the other side of the court.

Volleyball consumed him, and their air had a sense of calm.

The first set transitioned into the second and at some point, Oikawa shifted closer to Hajime and let his head flop down to rest on Hajime’s shoulder, all while never letting his focus leave the screen. Hajime bristled at the contact at first. Oikawa didn’t usually touch him unless he was trying to annoy him somehow, and unsolicited physical gestures tended to incite Hajime’s urge to smack him in the back of the head.

But there was no teasing or heckling, and Hajime relaxed into the body heat that radiated between them and created a cocoon of warmth inside the blanket. Oikawa’s breathing was calm and even against Hajime’s side as he continued to scold the occasional sloppy play under his breath.

They had watched enough of the Argentinian League’s games together that Hajime generally knew all of the players on the San Juan team. And every time, he was surprised by how similar the setter’s playstyle was to Oikawa’s in technique. It made sense of course, with Jose Blanco coaching the team again, and Oikawa having spent every practice since they were ten trying to emulate the guy.

But still, it was kind of amazing. The current San Juan setter had all the right athleticism, and the same quiet and manufactured pleasantry that Oikawa did when he was on the court, but Hajime still knew that Oikawa was better than him. That he was going to replace him easily once he got there.

He could picture Oikawa there perfectly. He just fit. Hajime saw him there on that foreign court, giving his pregame speech, declaring his utmost faith in his teammates, and patting each of them on the back as they lined up to take their positions.

And maybe Hajime did understand a bit of what Oikawa had meant. Maybe he’s also a little bit glad that he won’t be playing volleyball anymore too; if only so that he won’t have to know how it feels to have some other setter’s palm between his shoulder blades as they try to convince him that he’s the best partner they’ve ever had.

He shifts to pull the blanket tighter around their shoulders from where it had started droop down his back and let in the chill of the outside air.

It wasn’t entirely true, of course, that Hajime would never play volleyball again. There would be pick-up matches, practice games, the occasional instructional class, and even a few surprise drop ins on his kouhai. The threat of inevitable change was still lodged in the spaces between his ribs, but volleyball wasn’t going anywhere. And, in a lot of ways, neither was anything else.

* * *

Eventually the match ended and Hajime mentally prepared himself for the rush of cool air that would engulf him as soon as they discarded the blanket and moved over to the futons. Oikawa seemed just as reluctant to leave, whining against Hajime when he attempted to shift away.

“Count of three?” Hajime suggested.

“Mm,” Oikawa hummed.

The mad dash from the comfort of the blanket to the futons that were always all the way across Oikawa’s room, was something they had been doing for as long as Hajime could remember. It had started in the summers, with the fear that aliens, or dinosaurs, or whatever other stupid things they were afraid of that week, were going to come out of the darkness and grab them if they couldn’t get under the covers fast enough. And then the winter came, and while they eventually outgrew running away from monsters, there was still a nostalgic practicality in trying to outrun the cold.

“One… two…”

Oikawa shifted off of Hajime’s shoulder to settle his weight under his feet, getting reading to pounce with a competitive glint in his eye.

“Three!”

Whipping the blanket off from around them, Hajime practically dove backwards to avoid Oikawa’s obvious attempt to knock him over. Momentarily surprised that his plan to foil Hajime’s run up had failed, Oikawa paused and gave Hajime half a second more to get to his feet.

“Iwa-chan, no fair!” Oikawa called, quickly getting his bearings again.

“Don’t be so predictable next time Shittykaw – _nngh_ ”

Oikawa had swiped Hajime’s ankles out from underneath him and sprinted across the room to haphazardly throw the futon comforter over himself. The _guest_ futon’s comforter.

“Agh! Every fucking time!” Hajime stalked over before letting himself fall bodily onto the bundle of fabric that was Oikawa.

“Ow! Iwa-chan, mean!”

“Stop taking my futon every single time I come over, and I won’t have to do this anymore!” He started grasping at the covers to try and pry Oikawa out from underneath them.

“But yours is always closer,” Oikawa whined through each syllable while squirming away from Hajime like a goddamn eel. “And now I’m already all cozy!”

“I” – Hajime finally managed to unearth Oikawa’s torso from the blanket and grasped Oikawa’s wrists as quickly as he could – “am not going to spend another night sleeping on that weird crunchy residue that all your hair product leaves on the pillow!”

Oikawa pouted up at Hajime with a futile – albeit very skilled – attempt at puppy dog eyes, while his arms struggled against Hajime’s hold. “Ugh Iwa-chan, why are you so heavy! No fair!”

“Oh, yeah? How’s _this_ for unfair?” The look of apprehension that flashed in Oikawa’s face as Hajime released one of Oikawa’s wrists was far too satisfying, before Hajime quickly wet his finger in his mouth and shoved it into Oikawa’s ear.

“ _Iwa-chan no!”_ Oikawa’s squeal was high pitched and could probably break the sound barrier. “Ew, ew, eeeeew,” Oikawa groaned and Hajime laughed so hard he felt his cheekbones press up to crinkle his eyes.

“Boys!” A swift knock to the bedroom door made them both freeze, lock eyes and clamp their mouths shut to hold in the giggles they hoped Oikawa’s mom wouldn’t hear. “ _Please_ , it’s a school night!”

“Sorry mom!” Oikawa failed to hold back a smile. “We’re just going to sleep now!”

He waited until his mom’s footsteps had started receding down the hallway to take advantage of Hajime’s slowly loosening grip, and used is entire body weight to hurl Hajime off of him.

Hajime landed on Oikawa’s empty futon with a thump, while Oikawa quietly hummed for his victory.

“Asshole,” Hajime half-whispered. “At least trade me pillows.” He smacked Oikawa’s usual pillow over to him without waiting for a response.

Still catching his breath, Oikawa swapped the pillow with a gloating smile, and thankfully, no more complaints. Crawling underneath the covers of what was now his bed for the night, Hajime realized idly that he wasn’t even cold anymore.

He rolled over to lay on his back, his eyes tracing the familiar patterns of Oikawa’s ceiling while the desktop computer’s screensaver slowly dimmed and transitioned the room from the artificial blue light to the clear stream of night air coming through the window.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Hmm?” Hajime turned his head as his eyes slowly adjusted to the way the moonlight framed Oikawa’s profile.

“I…” his voice was soft and strange. Like whatever words he was about to say next would shatter glass, no matter how quietly he said them.

Annoyance flared in Hajime’s hands, and he resisted reaching over and pinching Oikawa until he was absolutely sure that he deserved it. “Come on, Shittykawa. You’ve been pissing me off for days with this wishy-washy bullshit. Since when have you not been able to tell me something?”

Oikawa turned and held Hajime’s gaze with a hard stare. The way the light came in from behind him cast his features in a muddled darkness, but Oikawa’s fierceness was always one that was felt more than seen. Whatever it was, Oikawa was serious about it. “It’s…”

 _And, he’s going to make me guess isn’t he,_ Hajime sighed while Oikawa trailed off into silence. “Okay… is it something to do with Kamada-san?” Hajime hedged.

It made enough sense, it was the only thing that specifically had made Oikawa weird lately, when he’d seemed normal in most everything else. The shadows were still making him hard to read, but Hajime could just make out Oikawa’s brow doing that thing it did when he was debating about something.

“Ugh, what? What is it?” Hajime was practically growling through his whispers. “What did yo – _oh my god, no._ ”

A horrible, stomach curdling, blood-stopping thought occurred to Hajime. Oikawa’s eyes widened in absolute terror as if he had been caught in the biggest mistake of his life, and suddenly the comforter wasn’t keeping Hajime warm anymore.

“You didn’t… you didn’t get her _pregnant,_ did you?” He had to swallow around the whispered word to even get it out of his mouth.

Oikawa’s reaction was immediate and visceral. Somehow his eyes managed to get even wider in a pure gob-smacked shock that was so intense that it bordered on disgust. “ _No_ ,” his voice was hoarse and definitive.

Hajime’s heart began to beat again and the dread slowly ebbed away. “Then what is it?” The energy to be annoyed no longer existed.

“I…” Oikawa closed his eyes before taking a deep breath in through his nose. “I’m gay.”

Hajime blinked, and swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “Oh.”

Images from earlier in the afternoon roared in Hajime’s head. Nakano’s coarse carpeted flooring, the faceless person from his dream, the way Hajime had felt like an outsider to himself, and the nice but ultimately, emotionally disconnected feeling of the weight of Nakano’s chest in his hands.

 _I think I might be too_. The thought flashed across Hajime’s mind without his consent or previous knowledge of its existence. It shone in front of his eyes as if it was a physical object, with such crystal clarity that would be impossible to ignore.

Except that he had to. That was _not_ the first thing he was going to say after his best friend had just come out to him. This wasn’t about him.

Hajime clenched his shaking fingers into fists inside the safety of Oikawa’s comforter, and met his eyes. The fear he found there was a new, and unknowable thing to Hajime, except all at once, it felt chillingly familiar. “Okay,” he nodded.

“It is?” Oikawa asked hesitantly, and Hajime already felt like he was fucking this up.

“Yes,” Hajime nodded again, his voice stronger than before. He needed to be absolutely sure Oikawa understood that the fear he was feeling, wasn’t something he needed to worry about with Hajime. Because Hajime would do anything to not to see Oikawa look the way he did right now. Like he was risking everything just because of the truth.

“Are you sure?” Oikawa sounded lighter, his posture relaxed into his cocoon of blankets, and Hajime felt himself do the same instinctually. “Because you looked pretty constipated there for a second,” he half smirked.

Hajime breathed out a laugh and shook his head, grateful to already feel a sense of normalcy again. “I… sorry. But I promise, something like that would never change things between us. That’d be stupid.”

“Iwa-chaaan,” Oikawa hiccupped before he launched himself at Hajime and buried his head just beneath Hajime’s neck.

“Ugh.” Several of Oikawa’s hairs were going up Hajime’s nose and he had to huff out harshly to get rid of the tickling sensation. “Get off of me, asshole.”

“Iwa-chan! Rejecting a hug from your best friend right after he comes out to you,” Oikawa gasped in faux offense. “That’s so homophobic!”

Despite himself, Hajime snorted. “I am not homophobic” – Hajime dislodged his arm from where Oikawa had trapped it between them, to palm the entirety of Oikawa’s face and push him back into his futon – “ _you’re_ just obnoxious.”

Oikawa managed to pout back at him for a whole second before they both just started bubbling with laughter. Hajime wasn’t entirely sure why, but he felt lighter – safer somehow – after Oikawa had told him.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said in a rare moment of non-competition related sincerity.

“Of course,” Hajime matched his tone.

Oikawa hummed as he turned to lay on his side and face Hajime. A position he usually reserved for late night gossiping that Hajime always tried not to get invested in. Though, Hajime had a feeling that tonight’s dimly lit, whispered conversation wasn’t going to be about some girl who farted during gym class. “Are you surprised?”

“I had never thought about it before, if that’s what you mean,” Hajime mused. Girls had been all over Oikawa for years now, and because he was so obviously good looking and he adored any kind of attention, Hajime just never had a second thought about whether or not Oikawa wanted to be with them. Which, Hajime realized now, was an extremely stupid rationality.

Because, at the same time, he and Oikawa _never_ talked about girls. Hajime had even made the conscious decision to _not_ talk about them because Oikawa always got weird about it. Girls liked Oikawa, and Oikawa liked praise – and for some reason, Hajime never even considered the fact that liking the praise he got from girls was not the same thing at all as liking the girls themselves.

“But, as soon as you said it, I realized it made sense. You’re never staring at the girls in the halls when we switch to our summer uniforms, or anything like that.”

Oikawa laughed, “well with how much time you spend staring at _everyone_ in the halls no matter the season, I’m surprised you were even able to notice, Iwa-chan."

Hajime’s face surged with heat “What!?”

“Don’t think I don’t notice the way you’re always looking at everyone’s butts when they’re walking in front of us down the hallway, Iwa-chan. You aren’t subtle.” Oikawa shrugged one shoulder.

 _Do I really do that?_ Thinking about school he realized he _did_ spend a lot of time looking at people’s legs; analyzing how they walked and admiring their muscle structures – whether or not they worked out, how well tailored their uniform was for their body type, or if the way their hips were aligned would make it challenging for them to learn proper spiking form if they ever played volleyball. But all of that was just… appreciation. Curiosity. An interest in anatomy, and body science. It wasn’t…

“Do you think anyone else can tell?” Oikawa asked, the darkness making Hajime’s spiraling thoughts appear as indifference.

“Mm, doubt it,” Hajime blinked to refocus. “If even _I_ thought you were probably sleeping with Kamada-san, then I’m sure no one else knows either – wait. So, what did happen with her then that’s been making you so weird this week?”

The moonlight just barely showed off the way Oikawa’s cheeks pinked shyly. “Well, I uh… I had been pretty sure I wasn’t into girls for a while now, and kissing and some touching has always been tolerable but she uh… she asked me to…”

“ _Ohhhh_ ,” Hajime exhaled a long breath through the syllable. “ _This_ is what the whole boob thing was about, wasn’t it?”

“Um,” Oikawa burrowed further down. “Well actually, that was supposed to just be a segue… what she wanted was a little further _south_ of that…”

“Oh.” It was Hajime’s turn to feel his cheeks tinge with heat. The image of Oikawa’s hand down some girl’s pants was weird, strange, not something he should be seeing and – and he wanted it gone, out of his head immediately.

“I couldn’t do it Iwa-chan! I just _couldn’t_ ,” Oikawa was whining in earnest now, and Hajime couldn’t help but think how surprisingly normal it sounded. Like Oikawa was complaining about a smudge on his glasses, or not wanting to tape up his fingertips despite needing to protect a lingering hangnail from tearing.

He was comfortable, and Hajime felt strangely jealous.

“So, I uh, I may have made a not-so-smooth, speedy getaway, and well,” Oikawa continued matter-of-factly. “I’m pretty sure Kama-chan _suspects_. I don’t think she’d do anything malicious with her suspicions, but that’s why I was pushing to set you up with her friend – to use you to see if she had told anyone.”

“Oh my god, you are really such a piece of shit!” Hajime couldn’t help but laugh through his frustration. “I _knew_ you had an ulterior motive!”

“Well, it didn’t even work, did it? Because _someone_ over here is a big, dense, muscle-head and didn’t pay attention to what I was saying!” He shoved Hajime’s shoulder.

“How in the world you think I’m supposed to get from ‘ _oo Iwa-chan have you touched any boobs yet?_ ” He titled his voice into Oikawa’s signature lilt for effect, “to ‘ _hey Iwaizumi can you please go out with this girl’s friend to see if they know I’m gay?’_ is absolutely ridiculous! No one can follow that logic!”

Oikawa, in typical fashion, simply ignored that Hajime was right. “Mmm, I think I was being perfectly clear, actually.”

“Okay, sure,” Hajime ran a hand down his face. “So, uh. Have you told anyone else?”

Oikawa shook his head where it rested against his pillow. “Since we’re all graduating in a few months anyway, I don’t really see the point in making it into a big statement or anything. I’ll probably tell Makki and Mattsun at some point, and I guess I’ll just _ask_ Kama-chan why she thought I ran off, but until then, it’s just you.”

“Your fan club is going to be devastated you know,” Hajime chuckled softly at the image of a horde of girls crying in front of a makeshift shrine of Oikawa.

“Just another reason not to tell anyone yet,” Oikawa waved a hand. “It’s not like they’ll follow me to Argentina, and they can go on fantasizing about straight-me until the end of time. Why crush their dreams?” He said it almost wistfully.

Hajime’s nose scrunched up. “Ugh, hearing you preen at their attention is somehow _worse_ knowing that they never stood a chance. You’re like a goddamn succubus.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa swatted at him. “You’re supposed to be supportive!”

“I am being supportive, idiot!” Hajime scolded. “I’ll support you whenever and however you come out, and I’ll help you kick anyone’s ass who has a problem with it – but you know I’m not just gonna let you date all those girls anymore. That’s fucked up.”

The disturbing tenderness that swathed over Oikawa’s face as Hajime spoke, faded to mirth by the time he finished. “Oh? You’re not going to _let_ me, huh? What would Utsui-chan say about you being so forward with me, Iwa-chan?”

“Ugh,” Hajime groaned emphatically. “That joke is _really_ not as funny as you think it is.”

“Mm, I disagree, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa tapped his chin, pretending to think it over. “Apparently, I can’t even pretend to be interested in those girls anymore, but at least I’m not emotionally attached to a ratty old book, like you are.” Hajime could _feel_ the twinkle in Oikawa’s eyes.

Hajime stared at him and debated for thirty seconds whether or not to explain to Oikawa, _again_ , how he had happened to find the book right after Oikawa had blown out his knee, and that having an interest in sports science was perfectly normal. Injuries were _terrifying_. They could win or lose a million games and still keep getting up and fighting. But the words “ _career ending injury_ ” were worse than a death sentence in Hajime’s eyes. He was going to study as much as he could to try and prevent the look of pure desperation that he had seen on Oikawa’s face that day, from happening to anyone else.

Hajime knew Oikawa knew all of that too. He’d been more understanding than anyone else when Hajime told him about going to California to eventually intern under Utsui-san. Turning the book into Hajime’s fictional girlfriend was probably just Oikawa’s twisted way of telling Hajime that he’d miss him.

So, Hajime decided against arguing tonight, and he rolled over to face away from Oikawa. “Goodnight, shithead.”

“Aww, Iwa-chan! Did I hurt your feelings by insulting your _lover_?”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m gonna punch you so hard your mom wakes up again. We have school tomorrow dumbass.”

“Okay, okay! Sorry!” It was his usual half-scared, half-genuine, conceding voice that he used when he knew Hajime was right and absolutely would follow through with a punch.

But Hajime was sure he could hear a small smile breaking through Oikawa’s voice too; and that peaceful, safe feeling settled over Hajime again as he started drifting slowly toward sleep.

Vaguely, Hajime registered Oikawa shifting around to get more comfortable behind him, when he felt Oikawa nudge his head between Hajime’s shoulder blades. “Thanks, Iwa-chan.”

The heavy, earnest sincerity of Oikawa’s gratitude hung shyly in the darkness and made Hajime’s throat feel tight. He nodded just enough so that Oikawa could feel him shifting against where his face was still pressed into Hajime’s back.

_I think I might be too._

No matter how hard he pinched his eyes together, the familiar heat of his best friend’s breath rhythmically fogging up his spine through his t-shirt did nothing to chase away the thought that was still blaring like a caution sign branded to the backs of his eyelids.


	3. Chapter 3

It took until Friday afternoon for Hajime to come to a conclusion about why his eyes were apparently drawn to the legs of every student at school.

It was the uniforms. The plaid was just designed to draw in the human eye. And Hajime noticing the way that the pattern emphasized the muscle definition of various students, was just his eyes were doing what they were meant to do.

The plaid on the girl’s uniforms was less noticeable though, and Hajime’s eyes would catch there just as often. Well, less so the plaid, and more so the way their thighs curved from their hips.

The girls had nice legs, and the guys just had distracting pants.

 _I think I might be too_. Hajime swallowed down the voiceless whisper that had been flowing around him like a gust of wind for the last few days.

It was the fucking school’s fault for making them wear such ugly uniforms.

“Hello?” Oikawa waved a hand in front of Hajime’s face while they walked toward their respective classrooms after finishing lunch. “Earth to Iwa-chan!”

It was also Oikawa’s fault for pointing out Hajime’s – _nonexistent_ – penchant for staring. “What?”

“Mm, you were zoning out again,” he said with a giggle while Hajime fixed him with a glare. “I was _saying_ , Coach asked if we’d swing by the team’s practice after school. They’re working on potential line-ups for next year and want the third years to act as the other team.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Hajime sighed.

“Coach only pulled me aside just as lunch started!” Oikawa whined. “Besides, today was the last day of finals, so you don’t have to study anymore, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Hajime nodded, already feeling relaxed at the idea of being on the court again. “It would have been nice to give my mom a bit more warning though.”

Oikawa swatted away where Hajime had started to pull out his phone. “No need, I already told her! Texted the rest of the third years too, so we’ll have a full roster! Well, no libero you know, but that’s fine, Mattsun could do with some more work on his receives anyway.”

Hajime decided against pointing out that Matsukawa wasn’t planning to keep playing volleyball after high school either, so he didn’t exactly need to be worried about his receives anymore. “I’m surprised Coach is already trying new match-ups, he never did that when the third years left before.”

“Mm, well he probably wants to make sure Yahaba’s tossing to all the current players is as strong as possible before the new first years come in in April.”

 _Oh._ Another new future reality sketched itself in Hajime’s mind. “Huh, an Oikawa-less Seijoh. Weird.”

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa’s voice crackled slightly with a mix of confusion, concern, and something else Hajime couldn’t quite read.

Hajime shrugged. “I mean, obviously I’ve known that we aren’t on the team anymore. But I just hadn’t thought about how that meant the team doesn’t have _us_ anymore either.”

“Aww, Iwa-chan!!” Oikawa threw an arm around Hajime’s shoulder. “You think of me as a permanent fixture of the team!?”

“I – what? Yes?” Heat laced Hajime’s cheeks despite the incredulity he felt toward Oikawa’s interpretation of what he said. It wasn’t _exactly_ what he meant, but it wasn’t really wrong either. “We’ve been playing together our whole lives, dumbass! Of course, I think of it that way!”

Oikawa’s shit-eating grin somehow got wider with the addition of his now waggling eyebrows.

“Ugh, get off me,” Hajime shoved the weight of Oikawa’s arm away from his rapidly heating neck, before he turned to go back to his own classroom.

* * *

The gym was full with the squeaks of shoes against wood, and the leather of volleyballs slapping against palms. Hajime was wearing his old gym uniform instead of his usual practice clothes, and the team he saw in front of him was no longer incomplete with him on the sidelines, but it was still a volleyball gym. And Hajime loved it.

It _was_ a bit strange, to be standing in the open doorway watching his kouhai practicing – connecting easily in a basic passing drill – and knowing it was no longer his place to call out to them to change activities. Out of the corner of his eye, Hajime saw none of his own bittersweet nostalgia reflected in Oikawa’s face as he toed on his volleyball shoes. Instead, he saw only the ferocious hunger that was synonymous to Oikawa when he stood on the court.

Some things change, and some things never do.

“Ooookay,” Oikawa shook out his wrists as he walked into the gym, with Hajime and the rest of the third years following close behind him. “Are all of my precious kouhai ready to see how an upcoming professional athlete plays?”

The rest of the gym responded with a chorus of hellos, none of them even slightly fazed by Oikawa’s unnecessary narcissism.

“Aww, Iwa-chan did you see how they totally ignored my trash talk?” Oikawa pouted as they started to warm up and Coach instructed the new team to set up for the match.

Hajime snickered. “I don’t think they can really be intimidated anymore by a guy who they’ve seen cry into a bowl of ramen for thirty minutes.”

“Iwa-chan! Rude!” Oikawa plopped down to the floor dramatically to fold his legs into a butterfly stretch.

“The snot from your nose went all the way down your chin and into your bowl,” Hanamaki added bluntly, calmly rotating his shoulders. “There’s no coming back from that, man.”

Oikawa whipped his head to stare in offense. “Not you too Makki! Vulnerability is a sign of strength!”

Hanamaki rolled his eyes and Matsukawa looked as if he was about to throw his own jibe into the mix when Coach blew the whistle to signal for them to start on-court warmups.

It had really only been about a week since Hajime had touched a volleyball, but as soon as they started their spiking drills, he was overcome by how much he had missed it. The uneasy stone lodged in the corners of his ribcage was slowly becoming dislodged, and he could feel his mind sharpening to a point.

“Nice kill!” Oikawa slapped his hand between Hajime’s shoulder blades as he came down from his second pass through the drill.

Oikawa’s eyes were alight, reflecting the warm wood tones of the gym, and it kicked Hajime’s adrenaline into overdrive. He had missed this.

With a quick nod he silently promised Oikawa that they’d crush the other team, and Oikawa’s face morphed into a comfortably feral smirk that matched Hajime’s own as they lined up to start their first set.

Aoba Johsai’s new starting lineup was more defense oriented than Hajime expected. Even though Kyoutani was officially a starter now, Coach had decided to keep Kunimi as the opposite hitter. Other than Watari, Kunimi probably was the best receiver on the team, and positioning him as the opposite for Yahaba was probably a good move. That also meant, that Kyoutani had taken over Hajime’s old position as the left side outside hitter.

A Seijoh with Kyoutani Kentarou as the ace was one to be feared, and Hajime couldn’t wait for the first whistle to blow.

The game started and Hajime was glad to see his fellow third years were all taking it as seriously as he was. Oikawa was right that Matsukawa probably could use some work on his receives now that he wasn’t being subbed out for Watari when he was in the back row, but their offensive power was as strong as ever, and Oikawa’s serves granted them a fair number of points.

But it turned out that Kyoutani wasn’t the only one to watch out for on the other side. Sure, he was matching up surprisingly well with Yahaba despite the animosity Hajime knew was between them, but what was more surprising was the first years. Kunimi and Kindaichi had just gotten back that afternoon from their own away camp, and they were noticeably, and annoyingly, better than before.

Kunimi was picking up balls that he would have never gotten before – although his actual _effort_ to get to the ball didn’t seem to have improved much – and Kindaichi was actually _analyzing_ the court in front of him.

“Augh!” Hajime ran his hands through his hair in frustration as his feet touched back down, the ball dribbling behind him pathetically where it had just been fully and completely stuffed by Kindaichi. Hajime wasn’t sure if he was more frustrated or proud that the other side had just won the first set with a block point against him.

“Don’t mind, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa said easily, already getting ready for the next set. “It’s the team of six that’s strongest, right? And there’s no way any team with the both of us is the weakest.”

“Shut up,” Hajime huffed through a smile, trying and failing to be annoyed at Oikawa quoting his own words back at him.

As the evening went on, it became clear they were never going to only play three sets. The third years won a few, and so did the younger players. They were pretty evenly matched as teams, but it was the underclassmen who finally conceded to being too tired to continue sometime after they all had stopped keeping track of what set they were even on.

Collapsing down to starfish on the floor, Hajime reveled in the pleasantly raw, burning sensation in his lungs. His shirt was damp where his hand rested on his stomach, and he was overtly aware of the drops of sweat prickling off of his hair and onto the gym floor.

The other third years joined him while they did their cooldown stretches, most of them all too exhausted to talk, before one-by-one they tiredly said their goodbyes and left Hajime and Oikawa to melt into the floor.

“We should do that at least once a week until we graduate,” Hajime said up to the ceiling.

“Mm,” Oikawa agreed from somewhere to Hajime’s right. “Did you see the way Kindaichi was paying attention to how I set, instead of just watching the ball?”

“Yeah,” Hajime chuckled. “It was kind of unnerving.”

“Tch. I still think he and Kunimi are traitors for going to that camp at Shiratorizawa.”

“Of course, you do,” Hajime rolled his eyes as he sat up straight and saw Oikawa laying with his eyes closed, looking utterly unmovable and content. “We should head back.”

“Iwa-chan?”

Hajime grunted when Oikawa didn’t continue right away.

“Will you hit a few of my tosses first?” His left eye opened a sliver, like a little kid trying to sneak a peek at a scary movie.

“Yeah,” Hajime was already standing up.

“Really?” Oikawa sat up excitedly.

Hajime had decided before Oikawa had even asked. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

Oikawa nodded giddily while clapping his hands and running over to get the ball cart.

“Not for too long, all right! We haven’t had dinner yet, and I don’t wanna overwork myself!”

“Always such a worrywart, Iwa-chan!”

Practicing with the whole team was lively, and made the gym feel full with everyone’s constant calls of encouragement or teasing, everyone’s shared panting breaths coming together to focus them into one mind. Extra practice with Oikawa lacked the loud chatter, but had always been just as full of sound. It was a low thrum that coursed through Hajime’s veins, and propelled his muscles forward from step, to jump, to spike, until the ball was on the other side of the net and Hajime landed to meet Oikawa’s eyes and silently trade the sound between them.

Once, during their third year of middle school, the power had gone out while they were alone during a late-night practice. The gym had suddenly become a huge and cavernous place, the corners of the walls too far away and too full of empty space. Something about the way the entire shape of the room changed had been momentarily frightening. Until Oikawa whined petulantly and started trying to practice his serves despite the darkness, and Hajime spent the fifteen minutes until the lights came back on trying to wrestle the ball away from him so that he wouldn’t hurt himself.

The volleyball gym was just a room of four walls with a net set up somewhere in the middle, and if Hajime wanted, he could imagine him and Oikawa from a bird’s eye view as they passed, then set, the spiked the ball until oblivion. From that view, he could see why an outsider would think it was crazy that Hajime wanted to travel the ocean to study sports science, or why Oikawa would leave his home behind just to pass a ball across a different net in a different country. But Hajime’s perspective wasn’t from up above, it was rooted in his senses, spreading through the floorboards to let him see the entire court without having to use his eyes. The gym was their home just as much as either of their childhood houses were.

Oikawa came down from setting the last ball Hajime had thrown from the cart, and he noticed a mild wobble in Oikawa’s right leg. It was subtle, the sweat glistening over the lean muscle just above his brace, catching the light in a way that emphasized how his knee was spasming ever-so-slightly. Hajime knew it was probably nothing. Oikawa’s could be found icing his leg after most practices, but the fact that Oikawa was still smiling and clearly wanted to keep practicing made Hajime’s skin prickle with annoyance.

The closer and closer they got to graduation, the stronger the urge to ignore that annoyance was. _He’s got to get used to practicing without me nagging him_ , Hajime pinched his eyes together and let out a hard sigh. “Come on, help me pick these up. We’re done.”

“Aww, Iwa-chan, just a few more?”

The fact that Oikawa always tried that stupid puppy-dog face whenever he wanted something from Hajime was laughable. As if Hajime would ever reward him for just looking cute. “If I spiked this ball at your knee right now, would you be able to keep standing?”

Oikawa gasped and immediately swung his left leg in front of his right as a shield. “Okay, okay! I’ll start cleaning up right now!”

As Hajime went about putting the balls back into the cart, he was glad to see that while Oikawa was treating his knee somewhat gingerly, he wasn’t struggling to take down the net and carry it back to the storage room.

“How bad is it?” Hajime asked after they finished cleaning and were back in the clubroom.

Oikawa sat down on the long backless bench that sat by the wall, and rubbed his thumb into the muscle above his knee brace. “It’s just sore.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Today was longer than usual.”

“Here,” Hajime threw one of the instant ice packs he kept in his backpack over to him. “It’s probably inflamed and you just need to rest it.”

“You just keep these with you?” Oikawa tilted his head like a curious animal. “But you didn’t even have your gym bag with you today.”

After years of being friends with Oikawa, it seemed smarter to carry around various forms of first aid. And that way Hajime could punch Oikawa without feeling guilty too. “Just in case,” he shrugged.

“Hmm,” Oikawa hummed and his face slid into that odd fond smile it had been making lately, his thumb still making rhythmic circles in his skin.

The motion drew Hajime’s attention to Oikawa’s legs and made him think of the stupidly distracting, plaid pattern of their school uniform and the way the fabric was always perfectly tailored to Oikawa’s figure. His neck was warm as he blinked away the thought. “The way you’re sitting probably isn’t helping much,” Hajime walked over to join Oikawa on the bench.

“Oh, and are you an expert already, Sports Science-Sama?” Oikawa teased.

“Just give me your leg,” Hajime rolled his eyes.

The smirk on Oikawa’s face flickered as he hesitated, lifting his leg suspiciously to rest in Hajime’s lap.

“With your leg bent like that you couldn’t relax it properly, so it probably wasn’t doing anything.” Hajime gingerly pressed the pad of his thumb into the same spot that Oikawa had been working on. The skin was already smooth and cool from where the icepack had been.

Oikawa’s whole leg got heavier as soon as Hajime started to knead at the muscle, relaxing at the touch. “I thought you were going to hit me or something for overworking it again,” Oikawa chuckled, a rare softness to his voice.

“Tch,” Hajime shook his head. “Try to pay attention so you can learn to do this for yourself.”

Oikawa was oddly quiet as Hajime tried to sooth the tension in his leg. The familiar hum that threaded them together on the court was still buzzing around them, and Hajime knew that just because Oikawa wasn’t talking, didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking. Hajime was pretty sure Oikawa never slowed down; he was always thinking of what was next.

They hadn’t really talked about what those next steps meant for them. There had never been any question for either of them, that they would give everything they had to pursue what they wanted. But it also meant no longer seeing each other every single day, which was borderline surreal. Oikawa was always just there. And soon he wouldn’t be.

 _Neither_ of them would be. There was a kind of irony in it that Hajime almost smiled. Separately, they were _both_ leaving everything. Unwilling to be left behind even if they were apart.

The muscle just above the brace was almost fully relaxed, but the area right around Oikawa’s kneecap still felt tight when Hajime prodded at it through the fabric. Oikawa had been wearing the same brace for all these years, and Hajime was always surprised it had hung on this long. He hooked his knuckles beneath it, and started to shimmy the worn fabric down. The sweat from earlier made the brace snag with friction against his skin, but Oikawa, still oddly pensive, didn’t squirm away or complain about being tickled.

Hajime could feel Oikawa’s eyes on him without having to look. It was the same feeling he got during a game when he knew without a doubt that the next toss was coming to him.

“You’re good at this, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa stated, something foreign in his voice.

Hajime didn’t look up, unsure what to make of the rare compliment. “I’ve been looking into massage a bit,” he shrugged as he continued to try to soothe the sore muscle. “There isn’t much official scientific information on it for helping injuries long-term, but I think it still – “

“Iwa-chan.”

This time Hajime looked up. For a moment they just hung there, looking at each other while the silent thrum continued to beat in the air around them. The way Oikawa was biting his lip made the bottom half of his face look like he was unsure, but the hard, fierce look in his eyes told Hajime the exact opposite. He had barely registered that it was Oikawa’s decision-making face before there was a hand fisted into the front of his still damp t-shirt, and Oikawa’s lips clamped together over Hajime’s own.

 _Soft_ , the sudden spike in his heartrate pinged at him before Oikawa pulled back and they separated like a pair of magnets, lingering infinitesimally closer together before parting.

Unable to do anything other than look forward, Hajime saw all the ways Oikawa’s face had changed in the last ten seconds. His lips were still slightly indented from his own nervous gnawing, and his brow was still firmly set in its choice, but now all of it was washed out with fear.

And it was worse than before. Thousands of times more intense than when Oikawa had come out to him a few nights ago.

The fear caused a flurry in Hajime’s heart, rattling it faster and faster. It reflected off of Oikawa’s irises so sharply that Hajime felt its cool blade cutting him from the inside out like it was his own.

And it _was._ It was his, too.

How long had he unknowingly let this fear settle into the marrow of his bones? Weeks, months, or even years?

Oikawa’s bravery was a marvel. Always willing to put everything on the line and let it break, just for a _chance_ at more.

And Hajime hated to see him break.

His body was burning like ice. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted.

“Iwa-cha– “

Hajime’s hands were still on Oikawa’s knee, Oikawa’s fingers scrunched in the fabric of his shirt, and Hajime brought their mouths back together too.

Oikawa inhaled sharply though his nose, as if he was surprised that his actions could actually warrant positive consequences. The subsequent exhale against Hajime’s cheek allowed them both to melt.

Hajime dared to bring his palm up and cradle Oikawa’s jaw, reveling in the newness of the touch and amazed that there were still new things to experience together. The tips of Oikawa’s hair brushed against Hajime’s fingers, the texture a mixture of dried sweat and hours old hair product; and his nose dug into Hajime’s cheekbone with each tentative shift of their lips against one another.

Oikawa’s fist had disentangled itself from Hajime’s shirt, so that both of his hands were pressed firmly into the sides of Hajime’s face. The pads of his fingers scrabbled against his skin, like Hajime was a cliff and Oikawa desperately didn’t want to fall off.

“Don’t squeeze my face so hard, dumbass.” He smiled. “You’re gonna crush my skull.”

As he pulled back, Oikawa laughed, and for the first time, Hajime realized that he liked the sound of it.

Before the rare, rumbling panic of overthinking could rise up in the back of Hajime’s mind and ask _what does this mean, what does this mean_ , Oikawa answered for him.

“Iwa-chan, you like me.” His voice was a mixture of pure awe and his usual pompous, self-assured teasing. The whole combination left Hajime feeling annoyingly fond.

“I… I think I do,” he almost whispered.

Oikawa laughed again, softer this time before he sat up straighter, realizing something. “Wait, the other night when I told you I like boys, why didn’t you tell me you do too?”

“Because I like girls."

Furrowing his brow, Oikawa opened his mouth only to close it again a moment later. “Iwa-chan… you know you can like more than just girls, right?"

 _Oh._ Hajime blinked. His immediate answer when Oikawa asked if he wanted to touch a boob, the always-changing, faceless person in his dream, the emotional disconnect between himself and Nakano, yet the awareness of a physical connection, and the contradictory, distracting plaid pants. _Not just girls. That makes sense._

This time, Oikawa was laughing _at_ Hajime. “Iwa-chan, I didn’t know you were this dense about _yourself_! Oh my god, I wish Makki and Mattsun were here for this!”

“Shut up, Trashykawa! It’s confusing!” He smacked him in the side of the head, but Oikawa’s laughter didn’t stop. “And I really don’t think you wanted them here for that – they’d make fun of you for months with the way you were just clinging to me like a lifeline!”

Oikawa’s eyes went wide, and a pure, rosy crimson filtered through his skin to paint his features like watercolors.

 _Shit_ , Hajime let out a shaky breath, _he really likes me too, doesn’t he?_ The realization hit him harder than his own feelings had, the silent thrumming sound of connection roaring through his veins and completely sobering him. “I – sorry,” he cleared his throat.

Oikawa’s shoulders relaxed at Hajime’s sincerity, before his eyes began to shine like he had just discovered an exploitable cheat code. “You’re buying me milk bread on the way home.”

Hajime instinctually opened his mouth to tell him to buy his own damn bread before he shut it again. Oikawa’s blush a moment ago had torn Hajime between guilt for embarrassing him, and thankfulness for being allowed to witness its undeniable beauty. Milk bread seemed like a good offering in return. “Yeah, okay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had a few scenes I was most excited about! I had to restrain myself from making that volleyball practice scene a lot longer for no reason other than I wanted to talk more about the new team dynamics lolol.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Having never dated anyone before, Hajime spent the first month or so of their relationship wondering if he was doing it wrong somehow. The idea of suddenly changing their dynamic and actually indulging in Oikawa’s every whim just because their feelings for each other were more than platonic, felt idiotic and borderline dangerous for both Oikawa’s health, and Hajime’s sanity. Neither of them was going to benefit from Hajime treating Oikawa like whatever Greek god he seemed to think he was.

While most things hadn’t changed, Hajime couldn’t help but acknowledge that a monumental, but subtle shift had happened. That pleasant thrum that had always connected them on the court had been in their everyday lives too, Hajime just hadn’t known to listen for it before. And now that he was, he felt like an idiot for not paying attention sooner.

And sure, the new physical affections between them were exciting too, but it was the finally knowing and acknowledging to himself that he _wanted_ to be closer to Oikawa that was the most freeing. To know that when Hajime looked at Oikawa and the world suddenly narrowed down to a point, that Oikawa was seeing the same thing reflected back at him. The word “ _reciprocal_ ” now was accompanied by fresh goosebumps.

The hazy, inconsistent field of time that had been laid out in front of them since they lost the routine of the club became concrete again. They went to the gym and crashed their former team’s practices once a week, studied for their last round of exams, quizzed each other in English and Spanish after school every day, and they, may or may not have, deliberately waited as long as possible to tell their parents they were together so that they could continue to have sleepovers without enduring the dreaded _discussion_.

It was impossible to avoid seeing the future in everything they did, but the confirmed solidity between them helped nurse the preemptive ache of missing each other.

And there was excitement too. Practicing with the team again made Hajime’s heart swell with pride as the image of Oikawa thriving in Argentina became clearer and clearer. His own studying paid off well for their exams and made studying in California look even more enticing. Learning English and Spanish didn’t come naturally to either of them, but there was an unspoken joy in knowing that the languages would be another shared connection in their new environments. And late at night, from inside the safety of the soon-to-be nostalgic walls of Hajime’s bedroom, they would lay next to each other, touching foreheads, kneecaps, feet and loosely tangled fingers. The weight of massive change was constantly washing over them, and they rarely stopped smiling.

The day to take Oikawa to the airport came only a few weeks after graduation. The deep darkness of the early morning slowly loosened its hold on the sky, Hajime’s knees bumping against Oikawa’s where they sat surrounded by suitcases in the backseat of the Oikawa family car. Hajime had his fists shoved into his sweatshirt pocket, finger tips tracing back and forth over Oikawa’s going away present. A spell of silence was cast over them all, the staticky chill of change was too heavy to hear anything anyway.

The sun had yet to fully crest over the horizon by the time they reached the drop-off curb, and Hajime went to unload the copious amounts of bags from the trunk while both his mother and Oikawa’s sobbed and blubbered and sang their praises. Oikawa’s preening smile never faltered beneath the deserved attention, but there was a sincere weight to it that Hajime rarely got to see. Instead of just enjoying his ego being stroked, Oikawa was genuinely grateful for their support.

After another minute of goodbye hugs, Hajime helped Oikawa lug his bags inside so they could check them for the flight. Other than a few scoffs from Hajime about the price Oikawa was paying to take all of his things with him, and Oikawa’s subsequent shrug of “ _well what else did you expect,”_ they were quiet. They worked in tandem to lift, place, and weigh the things from Oikawa’s life that he’d be taking with him to his new home.

When the only bag left was the old backpack slung over Oikawa’s shoulders, they made their way over to the security line. It was as far as Hajime could go.

Facing each other, it was like Hajime was seeing him properly from the outside for the first time. Oikawa stood in front of him with his tall frame, broad shoulders and lean muscles; his bag resting as comfortably on his shoulders as the determination that was set in his jaw. Hajime wasn’t imagining how Oikawa would look as a globetrotting professional volleyball player anymore. He was seeing it with his own eyes.

And the hard, resolved, quiet smile that Oikawa was hiding told Hajime that Oikawa was feeling the same thing that had been coursing through Hajime’s veins since they had left their neighborhood an hour ago. It was the same feeling Hajime got right before he spiked one of Oikawa’s tosses. Or right after Oikawa kissed him for the first time. The cold fear that he might not be ready yet, the intoxicating excitement that maybe he was, and the undeniable desire to push forward and find out.

“I have something for you,” Hajime’s voice was a rough grunt from disuse over the long morning.

“Oh?” Oikawa’s eyes glistened with excitement.

Grasping his hand around the fabric one last time, Hajime pulled the white knee brace out from his hoodie pocket and held it out to Oikawa.

Eyes narrowed and head titled curiously, Oikawa flipped it over in his hands. “…my knee brace? Did I forget to pack it?” His nose was scrunched up, clearly trying, and failing, to not to let his disappointment come across.

Hajime chuckled. “Not exactly. I bought this one the same day you got yours.”

“If it’s yours from years ago, then why is _my_ name all faded in it?” Oikawa had flipped it inside out and stared at Hajime incredulously, no longer even trying to hide his annoyance. “And why are you smiling like that? Iwa-chan, I don’t get it.”

“You’re right, it’s kind of a shitty gift,” Hajime shrugged on shoulder, lips pulling up slightly. “But I couldn’t think of anything else that felt right, and I had meant to give it to you at some point anyway.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The day you got that brace you were so excited. It made your jumps less painful, it actually fit your twiggy little legs, and the doctor approved you to play again as long as you wore it.”

Oikawa was quiet, even through the slight jibe about his legs, only listening intently as Hajime spoke.

“But I know you. I knew you were going to wear it out, stretch it so thin from overuse that it would eventually snap. So, I bought another one and I wrote your name in it so I could easily replace yours if you ever lost it. But for whatever reason, yours never did break, even though you wore it every single day. So, this one has just been sitting in the bottom of my backpack since then.”

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa’s voice crackled, his eyes started to swim and Hajime knew that he understood. “I um,” he licked his lips to cover an insistent smile. “I have something for you too.” Shrugging one of his backpack straps off, he swung it around to his front, carefully folded the brace and put it inside, before quickly fishing something else out.

As Oikawa held it out to him, Hajime threw his own incredulity back at him. “It’s a new copy of _I Had a Lot of Volleyball Injuries. I Don’t Want You to Have Them Too._ ” He blinked, turning it over and feeling the smooth, unbent cover fit familiarly in his hands. “You hate this thing. You tease me about it constantly. And now, you’re giving me another copy?”

“I’ll admit to _occasionally_ being jealous that you spend so much time reading from Utsui-chan when you could be paying attention to me.” Hajime scoffed, letting Oikawa continue. “But! I know how rigorously you follow all the training stuff and advice in there, so I figured if you _have_ to be falling asleep with it every night, you might as well be thinking of me at the same time.”

 _Idiot_ , Hajime laughed. “Okay, but reading the same book that’s just in better condition than mine isn’t exactly going to remind me of you.”

Oikawa grinned like he had been waiting for Hajime to say that. “I annotated it.”

“You what…” Jaw slack, Hajime opened the book to a random page and saw that Oikawa had indeed written little notes on each page. The all too familiar handwriting varied in length and seriousness, and the messages were _everywhere_. From “ _Ew. This word sounds gross. Why do muscles have such weird names??”_ to “ _I totally get why you’ve been suggesting yoga for so long now, this is really interesting!!”_

“See! Now whenever you wanna read up on stretching techniques or whatever, you’ll also be treated to all of my amazing, insightful and witty commentary!”

Still flipping through the pages of the book, Hajime’s throat was so tight with emotion that he could barely process what Oikawa was saying. _He read it_ , his thoughts repeated over and over as Hajime’s eyes ran over the way the ink colors changed from Oikawa using multiple pens throughout the pages. “You read it.”

“Of course, Iwa-chan.” Hajime looked up and the image of Oikawa in front of him started to blur at the edges. “You’re moving all the way to California just for a _chance_ to maybe intern with Utsui-san four years from now. Of course, I read it.”

“Ha,” Hajime huffed, smiling so hard it hurt his cheeks. Leave it to Oikawa to give him a gift that was not only self-involved, but somehow also managed to encourage Hajime to work even harder to prove to him this was all worth it. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Oikawa’s tears were streaming silently down his cheeks now as he nodded back with a smile that matched Hajime’s. The corners of his mind told him they were in a very public airport, but Hajime couldn’t bring himself to care entirely. It only took one step forward to wrap his arms around Oikawa’s shoulders and crush their chests together.

The single bag strap that had been still over Oikawa’s arm slunk down to the ground in an instant as he hugged Hajime back. Arms wrapped beneath Hajime’s, one of Oikawa’s palms curled into the left side of his waist and his whole forearm pressed against Hajime’s back with the fingers of his right hand clutching at the fabric between Hajime’s shoulder blades.

Hajime wasn’t sure how long they stood there, their muscles trembling from the strength of the embrace. They were always stronger together, even when they had to be apart. He engraved the feeling on his heart so that he could be sure to replicate it when he saw Oikawa next.

“Hajime.” Their ears were smashed against each other so hard that he only registered Oikawa speaking because he could also feel the movement of his jaw. “I’ll miss you too.”

Reluctantly, they pulled back, their eyes meeting one more time.

“The next time I’m here, it’ll be to take everyone down.” He took one last look around, and the hunger embodied in his every motion set Hajime’s heart on fire.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Hajime grinned and Oikawa’s eyes sparkled back at him.

They shared one last nod of understanding before Oikawa picked his bag up off the floor and headed up the escalator. Jealousy, longing, and excitement were still swirling together in Hajime’s chest as he watched him go. Just before he was out of sight, Oikawa turned back around to flash Hajime a peace sign, and Hajime returned a small wave of his own.

Lingering only a moment longer, he turned around and headed outside. He found his mom and Oikawa-san chatting with one of the security guards outside – probably trying to convince him not to ticket them for leaving the car by the drop-off curb for so long.

“Oh honey, are you okay?” His mom turned to fuss over him, her hands running affectionately through his hair.

“It’s just a few more months until September and then we’ll be doing this all over again for you, Hajime-kun! The distance might still be a lot, but it’ll almost like you boys are doing it together!”

Hajime tilted his head up to feel the heat of the now-risen sun prickle the dried tears on his cheeks, and the old, familiar weight of the brand-new book nestled comfortably in the crook of his arms. “Yeah, we are.”

* * *

* * *

Tooru couldn’t believe his eyes. He had been anxiously checking his phone all day waiting to hear how Iwaizumi’s first meeting with Utsui Takashi had gone, and because of the time difference, Iwaizumi’s appointment wasn’t until right when Oikawa was meant to be getting done with practice. But when Tooru got home and his phone finally vibrated with a notification, there was no information about what was only the most important meeting of Iwaizumi’s life, and instead, Tooru was left dumbstruck staring at the world’s worst selfie featuring his boyfriend and _fucking Ushijima Wakatoshi_.

He didn’t even know where to start. Never mind whatever the hell Ushiwaka was doing in Irvine – the lighting in the picture was _horrible_ , with the sun blaring into the lens and painting both of them in almost complete darkness. It was like neither of them had ever been in front of a camera before – their smiles pasted on like something out of a badly drawn sticker book. Tooru wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that their awkward smiles managed to seem genuine enough to imply the two of them actually had some kind of friendly interaction, or the fact that their smiles were _so identical_ to one another that Tooru might have to finally face the reality that his boyfriend just wasn’t photogenic.

The whole thing was atrocious, but Tooru couldn’t pry his eyes away from the screen. _Is this what if feels like to be in shock,_ he thought as his brain failed to register that his phone was vibrating in his palm telling him he had an incoming video call.

After a few more rings of the _Iwa-chan~~_ contact name flashing at him, he tapped open the call.

Iwaizumi’s face appeared on the screen, earphones in and sun shining bright above him as he walked back to his dorm. He looked like he was about to say hello when Tooru cut in over him. “Iwa-chan, we desperately need to talk about your selfie taking skills. I taught you better than this.”

Completely unoffended, Iwaizumi’s face split into a mischievous grin, “so you got the picture then? You think that was bad, you’ll never believe what he was doing there.”

“He probably took time off to sulk after his disastrous last game,” Tooru twirled his hand dismissively. While his high school grudge against Ushijima no longer made Tooru’s blood boil with visceral rage, he did admittedly find some satisfaction in hearing about how often “ _Japan’s Young Cannon_ ” had been stuffed during his last tournament.

Iwaizumi’s face pinched together in that cute way it did whenever he thought Tooru was being petty. “I know I’ve been saying this since middle school, and that no matter what I say you’re still gonna hate the guy, but I really don’t think he ever meant to insult you.”

Tooru shrugged, unswayed.

“And besides, but he was actually a huge help today.” And then the wicked grin was back, so intense that it threatened to crack Iwaizumi’s face in half. “Utsui-san is his dad.”

Blinking rapidly like it would somehow increase his hearing, Tooru just stared back at him, his cheeks losing their natural color by the millisecond. “What.”

Then Iwaizumi was laughing, a full on whole body cackle that scrunched up his nose and made his face shine, but Tooru couldn’t appreciate it with his mind was racing a mile a minute.

_Utsui Takashi…Ushijima Wakatoshi… family name? Divorce? …Iwa-chan will be working with Ushiwaka’s… This whole time Utsui-chan has been…_

“Oh my god, you should see your face right now! I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve seen your eyes go that wide!”

“Iwa-chan.” His voice was eerily calm. “Are you telling me that every time you fell asleep with Utsui-chan in your arms, or we called her your girlfriend, that she was _related_ to fucking _Ushiwaka_.”

Stilling where he had been fishing his keys out of his pocket to enter his dorm room, Iwaizumi stared directly into Tooru’s eyes through the screen, his face entirely slack. Until a split second later when his lips twitched several times and he burst out into laughter again, opening the door. “This is fucking _hilarious_.”

Frustrated by the power of Iwaizumi’s genuine laughter, Tooru cursed his own emotions for starting to ebb away as his scowl started to falter. “It’s not funny! You’ve been unknowingly sleeping with the family of my mortal enemy since we were fourteen!”

Wiping a stray tear from his eye as he shrugged off his shoes and dropped his backpack by the front door, Iwaizumi shook his head gently. “You’re nineteen years old Shittykawa. Haven’t you outgrown the ‘mortal enemy’ thing?”

“It’s like you don’t even know me at all!” Oikawa huffed as he flopped down onto his mattress, the absurdity of the situation finally starting to overtake his initial shock.

Iwaizumi was lying on his side, propped up by his elbow in his own bed now, and rolled his eyes with endearment. “I get it, I was shocked too when I ran into him. And as weird as the whole thing is, it’s a good thing. Ushijima went with me to the meeting and told Utsui-san about how I was a great contender in high school and that he thinks I’d be a good fit for the program. I’m pretty much guaranteed to get the internship once I graduate.”

The pride that had lived in Tooru’s chest ever since Iwaizumi said he wanted to go to America in the first place, swelled inside of him and made his eyes sting. At the same time, his teeth ground together while Ushiwaka’s name circled around his mind on repeat.

“You’re torn between congratulating me, and insulting Ushijima again, aren’t you?” Iwaizumi said flatly.

Tooru stared at the wall just beyond his phone. “No.”

“Asshole,” Iwaizumi scoffed, shaking his head again.

Looking back at him, Tooru felt the immense and contagious relief radiating off of Iwaizumi through the call. Ushiwaka or no Ushiwaka, this was proof that Iwaizumi’s hard work was paying off, and that the inevitable strain that came from the distance between them was all in an effort to make their dreams come true. It made Tooru want to get up and go right back to the gym so that he could keeping pushing too. He sighed, “I love you more than I hate him, so I _guess_ I can allow there to be _some_ fraternizing with the enemy.”

“Tch,” Hajime mumbled. “You fucking better love me more than you hate him.”

Tooru giggled, his entire body weight finally relaxing to sink down into his bed. “I’m happy for you, Hajime.”

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi held his eyes again and Tooru felt the sting of pride seep through his again as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

Laying down on his side with Iwaizumi mirrored across from him, thousands of miles away, Tooru reveled in the way the air still buzzed around them. He could still feel it; the low, quiet, almost electric, current that had connected them for as long as he could remember. They couldn’t knock together their foreheads, their kneecaps, their feet, or tangle their fingers together like they had in those last few months of high school; but that giddy, all-encompassing and entirely comfortable feeling of home never left them. No matter where they were, they were always together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you thought :)


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